Sarah Loves you, you know
by i'm-the-moldy-wall
Summary: Ok, so this isn't about twilight. This is the autobiography of a woman who has commited a murder. Maybe she isn't so different from you. PLEASE GIVE IT A CHANCE!
1. Chapter 1

_(a/n. Hey guys this is my first story. I made this up. None of it is true but please review and tell me if I should go on I would love to be a writer and get this published someday, but if it's not good enough, tell me.)_

**Sarah Loves you, you know.**

Sarah loves you, you know.

I have always thought there was something beautiful about a clean, white sheet of paper. I look at it now, and look at the words I have written. It makes me want to erase it all, and get it back to its pure state, as it was before. But I cannot do that. I daren't do it.  
As I look around this room, I feel such loathing. I'm sitting on this horrid bathroom tile that is literally caked with grime. The ugly wallpaper is peeling and the moldy wall is peeking out as if to taunt me.

"This is you", it screams to me, "You are no better than moldy wall; only there because you need to be. No one wants to fix you up and no one cares enough to fix you up."  
I do not know if I need to be "fixed up", but I am often described that way. But I am more complicated than I seem.

I suppose that…well, I should start from the beginning, like most stories do. Well, where shall I begin? Oh yes. My name is Sarah Spindle and I was born during the summer of 1964; a great time…as I was told. I never really experienced it since I was born smack dab in the middle.

Oh my word, I always tend to get off from the subject of things. Where was I? Oh yes.  
My name is Sarah Spindle, I was born July, 2, 1964, and I have killed someone.  
I know what you think of me right about now, but before you form any rash judgments, you must first know the circumstances. Ah circumstances.

I do love them, really. Under the circumstances, everything changes. Under the circumstances, it is ok to do things not normally done. Under the circumstances, it is okay to break the rules. Under the circumstances, it is even okay to commit murder.

Maybe you disagree, maybe you do not. But you do not even know me so is it okay to even make a thought of me yet? I think not.

Maybe you think I'm a loony and should be locked up. I may agree with you on that because sometimes I DO feel crazy. I believe in my heart that I am not, but sometimes it is hard to tell.

I wonder, even, if the loony's know they are loony. Maybe they think they are normal. Everyone thinks they are normal. But I think that maybe everyone is a little crazy themselves.  
Oh geez.. Look how I skip around subjects. I'm a horrible writer. Well…back to the story.  
I guess you could say it started from the very day I was born; Or, more likely, when I turned five.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

My fifth birthday was one I will always remember. It was one that shaped a lot of my decisions as a child, and as adult. I suppose you might think it is silly that I let some incident that happened when I was five shape my life, but you do not know me. I, think it is perfectly natural. Here is what happened:

My mother, named Margret, told me that I could invite boys to this party, and, being a much exited little girl, I went all out. When I say "All out" I mean I invited the only little boy I knew, named Bobby Martin. Bobby Martin and I hardly knew each other, only from church, and honestly, I very much didn't like Bobby. I remember him very clearly; He had short, buzzed reddish hair and freckles that sprinkled all over his face, as if one poured red peppers right on his head. And his nose went slightly up at the end, so he looked like a ginger piglet.

He was a very dirty, nasty little boy who would always pick his nose and wipe it on his pants. But when my friends heard I was inviting a boy, they were all much exited to come. When I say my friends, I mean the only to friends I had, Lisa and Gina. I cannot remember what they look like but I know one had pigtails. Oh well.  
The girls came and when they arrived with my presents on the day, we all waited suspenseful for little Bobby's arrival. We were all exited to see what boys are like in a party atmosphere.

When he was half an hour late for it, we all thought that maybe he couldn't find a present. An hour late, he was probably stuck in traffic.  
By the time he was an hour and a half late, the girls grew bored, as did I, and we started the party without him. We had waited out through most of the party, and we had only about forty-five minutes before the girls were to go home.  
This was one of my most scarring days as a child.  
My thoughts on a boy were crude and that they were big hairless, mean, apes.  
Hm. I have just reread what I wrote. Maybe this isn't enough to explain why I committed the murder. Is it? A dislike for boys would not have just caused me to kill someone.

Oh, I hate doing this, but I suppose I should start from the very beginning. If I do, hopefully I won't get the death sentence when the police find me.  
Ah, let me see…where to start. Ah, yes.

I was born in the small town of Buffalo, Minnesota where every man was an agriculture worker and every female a nurse. Maybe that is too rash. Most men were agriculture workers and most women nurses. There; as I was saying. Buffalo was a very small town in which only maybe a thousand people lived. I didn't have many neighbors, you see, so it made my childhood very boring. My high school was rather small, and everyone knew everyone.  
They even knew me, the goofy Sarah Spindle.

You know, that was my name to all of them. Sarah Spindle. I mean, of course, that is my real name, but they always called me by my first and last name as if it was one. Never just the first or a cute and funny nickname the other students had. Like Kat Lawson; Everyone called her kitty. Whenever they did, I would always think 'Why don't they call me Kitty? Or at least just Sarah.'

As I grew older, I realized it was because, mostly, of their popularity and their looks. And I happen to have neither. I am not ugly. Well…I am not hideous. I have very fluffy, cottonbally blond hair. I am very tall and lanky, which probably made the males frightened of me. I do have huge circle rimmed glasses. And I also have braces, but I am supposed to get those off soon, but I suppose there are no dentists in prison. Oh, lord, what has become of me? It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. But, I have to finish this story before the police arrive.  
M

y parents were very uptight and catholic. My parents, Margret and Jack would never touch each other or show any affection at all. It made me start to loath them, really. Whenever they kissed it was a peck on the cheek. I'm not saying I WANT to see my parents necking or something, but I would really love to see affection. It makes me feel better when I see two people in love. Like there is still hope for people.  
Anyways, my parents weren't like that. They weren't even in love with each other. My mother told me one day, when I was about eleven years old. We were sitting on the living room sofa, her trying to teach me to knit. And I asked her how she and my father met.

"Well, Sarah," She told me, concentrating on her knitting, "Your father and I met at his office in Big island, when he was working as a tax attorney. And I found him and thought 'What a successful man' well, of course, I hired him as my tax attorney, he looked very smart…" She paused to bite the knot on her finished scarf, "Well, you know, Sarah, sweetheart, you know that your father and I didn't marry each other for love. No one marries for a preposterous thing like love, anymore." She stopped to wipe the sweat from her brow and take a drink from her iced tea. My mouth was open as I listened to all this.  
"

We married", she continued, "Because we knew we would be successful together. Sorry to break your heart, Sarah, dear, but love…just doesn't exist."  
At that time I thought that she did love him, she just didn't know it. Or I tried to make myself believe that. But later on, through the years, I found out that they really didn't love each other.  
Wow, reminiscing about my childhood makes me feel like crying when I sit here in this bathroom and see what I had done with my life. I would never have thought me as a killer. But here I am.

I did have siblings, of course. I have one sister. Her name is Jenna. Jenna and I were never really close, due to the fact that at school she was a social butterfly. She was very pretty, with shiny blond hair, always in a neat ponytail, and long, dark lashes and striking green eyes.  
At school, we never talked. She was, of course, younger than I, and by the time I was sixteen, she was fourteen, and already had a boyfriend, while I had never had one before in my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jenna always had a lot of friends. She would always be laughing with her friends, talking with her friends, always and always with her friends. It was almost as if she were another of the school mates I felt such distaste for, because she treated me as the other students did. Calling me Sarah Spindle, when her own last name was Spindle. But I guess everyone chose to overlook that fact.

Her boyfriend, Jeffrey, was a very good-looking young boy. When my parents would go away for business trips, which they did almost every week, Jeffrey would come over with Jenna and I would always hate it when he did.  
Even though Jenna was only maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, I would always hear the funniest noises coming from the bedroom. I hated, hated, and hated it. It not only made me feel loathing for her, but also started to make me hate myself, because not only was I jealous of Jenna for having such a good-looking boyfriend, I was hating myself for not having one and not doing the things she was doing.

And, of course, she would always bug me about it. Jenna really was quite awful to me for a sister. And I could never understand why. It might be because, well, honestly, she was embarrassed to have a older ugly sister who's only friends were books,  
I didn't care if my only friends were books. I loved books. I loved my books. They were my friends, my pride and joy. I was a very avid reader and would always get A+ in English class and for that I was very proud of myself.  
Too bad I am not much of a writer. Oh well, this story isn't really meant to be a good read, really, it is so people will know why I did it. I really do not know if I will be able to finish in time, but woe to me, I am the one who killed, aren't I?  
Middle school, for me, was one of the best times of my life. I hate, hate, hated high school. But middle school was a time of innocent school dances, me having no braces, having a few friends, and having a school crush.

Oh, the school crush. That was my first one, you know. It was in eighth grade and we were all seated and waiting for our science teacher, Ms. Gibbler, to arrive, for she was always late. Wonderful Ms. Gibbler. I really did like her.  
Anyways, when she finally stepped through the door we found that she actually had a reason to be late this time.  
"Class", said she, "We have a new student joining us. I know it so awfully late in the term, but please make this young boy feel at home."  
Our eyes drew to the young, scraggly stick of a boy. He had huge, wide eyes, and scraggly, dirty hair, but when I first laid eyes on him, to me he looked like an angel.  
"This," Ms. Gibbler continued, "Is Donny Davis" she spoke, smiling at us and looking at Donny. Then the munchkin of a child tapped her shoulder and whispered something in her ear.  
"Excuse me, Danny Davis, sorry Danny." Ms. Gibbler said chuckling. "Danny, why don't you take a seat next to…?" She searched the room for an open seat and the only one open was right in front of me.  
"Sarah Spindle." She pointed to where I was and I smiled widely, revealing my yellow, crooked teeth. The boys eyes grew wider and I stopped showing my teeth but put on a soft smile. He came over slowly and sat in front of me and didn't say anything.  
From the back of his head I could see all his dandruff and guessed that he probably didn't wash himself for more than a week.  
"Hey…" Said I, "How many times do you take a shower?" The boy turned around and said in a small, very mousey voice "I don't have a shower."  
And that was my undoing. I wanted to kiss him, right there and then. I have never, ever met a man so spectacular as so. I was hopelessly in love. I wished I could get up and dance and sing it to the world 'I LOVE Danny Davis!'  
But, of course, I didn't do that. We were just kids, what was I supposed to do? Instead, I whispered in his ear, "Want to be my friend?"  
And he answered, "NO I do not want to be your friend."  
Then, says I, "Ok. Lets hang out tomorrow." And I smiled at him real toothy again.  
"Ok." He says and turns back around. He was less fidgety and scared but I guess that was just the way he was. Danny Davis was basically my guardian angel on earth.  
The next day came, of course, and I had a better thought of boys than when I was five, because Danny was a boy and looked how great he was. Well, he kind of just reminded me of a very masculine girl, not that I am a homosexual.  
Well, Danny did come to school the next day and he just ignored me which I thought was pretty dumb of him, but, of course, I being I, I came up to him and hung out.  
He was sitting at the lunch table all by his lonesome and I just skipped up and plopped down right beside him. He was eating a tuna fish sandwich and I remember his breath smelling like tuna and pickles.  
I thought, 'lord I love this boy' I towered over him me, being 5'8 and him being around 5'2, but that just made me love him more.  
"Hello Danny." Said I, "What are you eating?" He looked reluctant to answer or even look at me and that made me smile.  
"tooma samich" he replied with his mouth full of it, his speech sounded like his mouth was numbed and when he spoke that, pieces of the sandwich flew out all over the table.

"Ooh," I say, "It looks good." He nodded as a reply and kept his head bent as he ate.  
"Aren't you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" I asked him. When he swallowed his sandwich he answered very softly, "yes."  
I noticed how very soft and high his voice was, as if from a girl. He was so very feminine and so very masculine at the same time and I loved it oh so much.

"Oh." Says I, "Me too!" and I stand up to show him the same coveralls I wore yesterday. He smiles a very weak, no teeth smile and I feel pleasure surge through me, proud of myself that I made him smile.

"I made you smile." I say.  
"I wasn't smiling," says he, "I had tuna stuck in my teeth."  
And with that, he threw away his bagged lunch and left the table without me.  
This was the start of my first real friendship and kind of liking romantically with a boy. And I didn't think he was a mean, hairless ape. And my mom says love doesn't exist. To me it did.

So Danny slowly became one of my first real friends. I think he had known I always liked him more than a friend, but he never said anything about it. I think he found out officially when I asked him to the dance.

It was when we first started high school. I, unfortunately, had just gotten my braces and was even more unpopular and unsocial than in middle school. I remember vividly that my mom had persuaded me to cut my hair shorter, about to chin length, and since my hair was so fluffy, it honestly did look like a cotton ball then. Danny said that its good that I had cotton ball hair because you wouldn't be able to tell when it's dirty or not, but I hated it.

We sat in our desks and our math teacher shouted that we were to have a dance. I was much exited because I love dances, you see. I'm a horrible dancer but I love it.

When we got the slips that said the time and date, we were excused to leave, and I ran up to Danny, who was walking rather fast like normal.

"So…."Says I, "Are you going to go to the dance?"

Danny looked up at me, with his face still streaked with grime, his minuscule nose scrunched up from looking at the sun, and my little angel answered, "Hell no."

"Well why not?" I ask, "It is real fun. I'll go with you if you want…we can go together." My voice was sickly sweet, even to my own ears.

The boy looked real nervous-like and his eyes grew very wide and wild; like he was on an illegal substance. God, I love it when his eyes do that.

"Well…uh, sure, I guess. It's not like I can get a pretty girl to go with me." That didn't really hurt me because I was used to being called ugly, but it hurt to know he thought other girls were pretty.

"Great!" says I, "Um, but I forgot I already have a date with a VERY handsome guy, so I can't go with you." I said putting on a sad frown. "Sorry…" I say.

Well, of course I didn't have a date already. I only said that to make little Danny jealous. And I didn't know any handsome boys that even look twice at me.

"Whatever." Danny said and he walked away.

By the time the dance came around, I was still without a date. I didn't even know if Danny was going. But on the day of, I saw him there, with a very old and dirty brown suit and I thought to myself 'Could god have made a more perfect soul?'

"Hey Danny" I said and walked up to him, trying to be cool. I had fashioned my hair to my head with bobby pins so that it looked like I had a bald, white head with leeches stuck to it.

"Uh, oh, uh, hi Sarah" I felt a thrill go through my body. He had used only my first name. Oh glory be. Oh what a wonderful, wonderful, boy.

"Ready for the dance?" Said I. He nods and we go in together.

I, of course, danced the whole thing through. All the poppy songs I jumped to and swung my arms, and hopped around like a maniac.

And, during the last slow song, I asked "Hey, Danny, Would you like to dance? With me? I mean, there are no other pretty girls for you to dance with."

He seemed to contemplate this for a moment. Then he shrugged his shoulders and replied with a shy "ok".

Since I was so much taller than him, his face was close to my intimate upper body and I thought 'Whoa is this school appropriate?' But then again, it was only Danny and I knew he didn't like me in that way.

I, on the other hand, did like him in that way and when I smelled the grease and his sweaty smell coming from his scalp I thought I would faint. I wanted him to like me in the way I liked him. So I decided to try to make him.

"Danny!" I squealed, "You shouldn't put your face there." And then I tried to make a pout with my lips.

"I didn't put my face anywhere" replied he, "And whats wrong with your mouth, do your braces hurt?" That made me feel weird and when the song was over, I gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and saw the dust rise from his suit.

When the dance was over I walked out with Danny and we stood in the parking lot for a little while not sure what to do.

After a while I said "Hey. Do you want to kiss?"

And he replied "Not really",

Then I said "Fine, be that way." And I turned away and started to walk in the other direction. I kept looking behind me to see if he would come after me and say 'Oh, Sarah, I was wrong; I DO want to kiss you' but he never did; I just walked by myself until I got home.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I really wonder what Danny would think of me now; he might think it was just like me to kill someone. Oh, lord, maybe I was meant to kill all along and I never realized.

But usually I wouldn't hurt a fly…but now…oh. I have his blood on my hands and it is splattered all over the bathroom wall, making images I have not yet known until now. I have tasted the blood and it tastes exactly how you might think it tastes;

Bitter and thick, just like death; exactly like death.

Anyway, the day after the dance I completely ignored Danny. Instead, I met a girl I have never noticed before.

Her name was Sheena. She had a neck brace and stringy brown hair, but she was oh so nice.

I met her in the lunch room. She was sitting down and not eating anything, but adjusting the neck brace. I went over there and stood over her. She didn't seem to notice until I said, "Hello".

When she turned to face me I noticed that she did have an attractive face, only hidden by the hilarity of a neck brace.

"Hi." She said loudly. She gave me a very friendly smile and I thought to myself, 'maybe making friends is easier than I thought'. But, of course, I was only a freshman, so who was I to say that?

Sheena would probably be more disappointed than my parents that I killed someone. And I hardly knew her. She would probably scream and yell 'Why, why?' and thrash me. I wish my parents did that. I wish they cared enough to get angry with me.

All my childhood and teenage years I lived with such lack of rules. I got horrible grades, except in English, and my parents always chose to overlook the bad. It was always 'Good job, Sarah. Got an A in English again.'

I wanted to scream and yell and throw a tantrum right on the floor. Scream 'Look at me! I need discipline! I need to be punished! Why won't you? Why don't you care?'

But I never said that. I never said anything. It was always 'Yes, I did. I always get an A in English."

They always congratulated Jenna on everything. Jenna was pretty much perfect. She got great grades; Perfect teeth. She was never in trouble, but she did so many bad things, I really don't understand how she didn't get caught.

I remember the day that she was my best friend. The one day that I loved her, and she me. It was a very cold morning, I remember because when I got out of bed I had to put my slippers on.

Mother and Father were on a business trip again, so Jenna and I were alone in the house. As I turned on the pot of coffee, Jenna walked up with her glossy hair mussed and fuzzed like mine, and her beautiful eyes red and puffy.

I daren't say anything because I was afraid of her reaction. Who knew what mean things she would spit back? Instead it was her who came up to me and said very softly "Sarah I think I'm in big trouble."

"What do you mean?" Asked I, for she was never in trouble.

"I think I'm pregnant." She said. She looked down and I saw tears roll down her soft, plump cheeks.

As I said, that day we became best friends. I took her to a clinic. One of those women help things where they take out the baby, and I held her hand as they did those awful intrusions of her body.

But the next day, when it was all over, it never happened and we never spoke of it again.

Oh, where was I about Sheena, again? Oh yes.

Sheena was awfully nice to me and I sat down next to her at the lunch table. She was very loud and talked much, sort of like me.

"So, where is Donny?" She asked me.

"You mean Danny?" I replied. "Oh, he's…somewhere." Said I, with the wave of my hand, which I HOPED looked dismissive.

"We don't really hang out much" I continued, though it was a lie. This was the first day we stopped hanging out, and as I looked over at the lunch table across the room, I saw Danny sitting there by his lonesome eating his tuna fish.

I felt a strike of guilt.

"Um, it was really nice talking to you but I think I should go." And with that I left and ran over to where Danny was sitting. I plopped down beside him and gave him a nice view of my braces.

"Hey Dan" He just nods to show he acknowledged me. I suppose he was in sort of a sore mood. But I was hoping to get rid of it.

"Whats that bruise from?" I asked, finally noticing the bluish, purple ring around his eye. He seemed reluctant to answer.

"Dad." Was all he said. At that I felt anger surge through me like lightening. How dare he hurt my angel? How DARE he? Especially his own father. Why, if that soul was conceived by me I would be dancing for joy and thanking the lord for such a blessing.

But, I being I, didn't say anything except for "Sucks for you."

"Not really", says he, "I have a roof over my head; I have clothes; a lunch everyday. People don't realize how lucky they are. I realize I am very lucky. Do you?"

I sat in awe as I heard all of this. I had never really thought of Danny as an actual boy, but when I heard this I realized how much he had grown since the eighth grade, even if we were only freshman. And he was absolutely perfect. I was so in love with this man. Or so I thought at the time…

"I…don't know." I replied, very dumbly. I had never thought of my family circumstances as GOOD, but then again…they were never really bad. There was always extra money, always food, my parents never got angry with me, told me to do chores, what to do. It should have been a child's dream. I wondered, then, why it was my nightmare.

"You are probably more lucky than you dare to think." With that he went back to eating tuna. While he ate, I actually didn't talk, wallowing in my thoughts of my home life.

That day, I recall, after school was out, I ran home as fast as I could. When I finally got through the door, panting, I saw both my parents were home. Dad, smoking his pipe and mom knitting next to the television.

"mom, dad." I said still breathing hard. I smiled a toothy grin then went on.

"I.Love.YOU." said I. I remember thinking I put too much emphasis on each word.

"Splendid, darling." My mother said, not listening to me. "You always do."

"NO, ma, mother, father. I LOVE you." I repeated it and made hand gestures as if that would help her understand what saying this means to me.

"Of course." My dad said. "You know we care for you, too." He went back to smoking his pipe and face fell with despair. He couldn't say he loved me? Why not?

I know it was a preposterous way to think, that they really did love me, of course they did, but sometimes I wanted so much for them to voice it or show it.

"I was voted most popular in school today. Everyone voted me because I'm everyone's friend." I lied and batted my lashes.

I was lucky Jenna was out somewhere with Jeffrey STILL, even after the pregnancy and (I shudder at the word) abortion. And I still have yet to kiss Danny, though I wanted to so very much and dreamed of it in my sleep and in my wake…

The next day at school Danny was back to his normal self and didn't rant about family life and beating dads. We hung out at the lunxh table while he ate his tuna, the tether ball while he played tether ball, the swings while he swung.

Today, I was the quite one and I hung around, like a moth to a light. When our lunch break would be over in twenty minutes I said "Hey Danny why don't we sit under that cool, secluded tree?" trying not to sound too obvious.

"Ok." He said and we walked under it.

We sat there for a while. And then I made my move. I really quickly moved toward him and kissed him.

And it was THE most awful feeling. Wet, and squishy and tuna tasting and it was just awful. His lips were not only wet, but slimy and I could not figure out why.

But before I could pull away he pushed me away, so hard as I fell on the ground and was amazed a boy that tiny could push me.

"GET OFF ME!" He screamed when he pushed me. Then he said "Never, ever do that again!" and he ran away from me.

Now, I was so very confused as to why he did that because HE was the bad one, not me.

"You're a horrible kisser anyway, Danny!" I yelled after him. I wasn't sure if he heard me but I think he did because he gave me the finger and that just appalled and delighted me at the same time.

When I think about the kiss, the fact that it was bad just made me like it more and I really wondered why it was so. Oh, well, you can't choose what you attracted to, I guess.

Anyways, when I got home that night I started to cry, like really cry for the first time. I thought about what a freak I was. How nobody liked me. How I lied all the time. A also cried for Danny, my only friend, it wasn't his fault he was a boy.

I cried for my sister, because even though she is perfect, I know in my heart I am better than her. I don't sleep around with guys all the time. But maybe I would if they liked me.

I just cried, and cried, and cried, and cried. And finally, I cried so much that I fell asleep.


End file.
